


There Is No Such Thing as an Accident (It is Fate Misnamed)

by theyhulk



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Timelines, Angst, Bonding over trauma, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loki and Tony are cavemates, Loki is better at the hurt than Tony is at the comfort, Loki regrets pretty much everything, Lots of dialogue, Pre-Slash, Remember when that first came out lmao, The Avengers (2012) Compliant, Thor takes place before Iron Man, Yinsen is a good mom, kinda sorta, weird friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-04-26 03:16:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14393133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyhulk/pseuds/theyhulk
Summary: Where had Loki been in the last few years that sent him somewhere only the Tesseract’s energy could summon him from?Who--and what--had he been running from all this time?“Tony?” He twitched at Pepper’s voice again, still worried, still close. “What is it?”Tony stared at the pixelated face of the gaunt being on the screen, without whom he probably never would have made it out of that cave alive.“I know him.”Tony wasn't alone in the cave.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been working on this for about a year now, and it's longer than anything I've written before, and it all came from a single thought:
> 
> What if Tony wasn't the only one bleeding in the desert?
> 
> And from that thought came all this, and I owe Yinsen an apology, and probably ones to Loki and Tony as well. I don't make life easy for any of them.
> 
> There's a lot of flip-flopping between the past (when Tony was in the cave) and the present (the battle of New York and surrounding events), but I hope it's easy enough to follow. This is my first major piece of writing and it's unbetaed, so do go easy on me.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (A final note: I use some direct quotes/scenes from The Avengers and Iron Man, and I'm sure you'll recognize them. These are the products of the writers for those movies, and I don't claim them as my own.)

Pepper had set down her champagne glass and was gathering her things, all the while pretending she wasn’t sneaking furtive glances at the images that flashed across Tony’s screens. Thus far, nothing had come across them that he hadn’t been at least vaguely aware of. (For all its pomp, SHIELD wasn’t _that_ hard to hack.)

 He hadn’t heard of the Tesseract, though, so maybe he wasn’t giving Fury enough credit. The guy was probably taking pains to hide this, given that Tony was his only competitor in the clean energy business. That, or concern over what might happen if the news got out that SHIELD was trying to harness said energy from an incomprehensibly powerful object from _outer space_ . Though the media backlash against that would be nothing compared to the existential shock and inevitable collapse of society that would result from the knowledge that alien life not only _existed_ , but it was--

The screen to his left was lit with information about the Tesseract, and the Hulk was roaring from the one to his right, and the center had begun to play a loop of the footage of the Tesseract’s theft. He hardly registered the sound of his champagne glass shattering as it hit the floor.

 **“Tony? What’s wrong?”** Pepper’s voice was breathy with concern as she came up behind him, her hand tentative on his shoulder. The touch wasn’t as grounding as she had probably intended it to be. Tony didn’t turn to look at her, suddenly rooted to the spot. 

He recognized that face. He recognized it from the cave where Yinsen had dragged them both back from the brink of death, three years ago. 

He’d written Loki off as dead, or as a figment of his imagination. But here Loki was again, and if Tony had thought he’d looked bad last time, he somehow looked even worse now. As grainy as the footage was, Tony could see the circles under Loki’s eyes; the sweat dotting his brow. He arrived glowing with white-blue energy, wisps of it that almost made him look like he was smoking. It crackled like fire coming off him and he rose slowly, grinning, looking for all the world like a man who had narrowly escaped a death sentence.

Was that how he’d looked when he’d escaped the cave, after Tony had gone, all the weight of the Mark I on his shoulders, chest still aching?

He talked about purpose, about freedom being a lie, about where he’d come from. Asgard. What was the glorious purpose? Where had Loki been in the last few years that sent him somewhere only the Tesseract’s energy could summon him from? 

Who--and what--had he been running from all this time?

 **“Tony?”** He twitched at Pepper’s voice again, still worried, still close. **“What is it?”**

Tony stared at the pixelated face of the gaunt being on the screen, without whom he probably never would have made it out of that cave alive.

**“I know him.”**

 

* * *

 

 **“You** **_know_ ** **him?”** Fury looked anything but impressed. Standing at the end of the table, arms crossed, decked out in black from eyepatch to what were probably steel-toed boots, the way he looked made Tony feel like he’d been dragged into the principal’s office. Like when he was in high school. And eleven.

He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, dropping his eyes to avoid Fury’s steely, one-eyed stare. **“What is this?”** He asked conversationally, leaning forward a bit to get a closer look at the wood. **“Chestnut?**  

**“Stark.”**

Tony dragged a hand over his mouth and sat back, summoning a weak smile that he expected wasn’t as charming as he’d like it to be. **“Yeah, alright, I know him.”**  

Fury let a long breath out through his nose, like he was just barely holding in the urge to wring someone’s neck. Probably Tony’s. **“Care to elaborate?”**

His laugh sounded nervous to his own ears and he stifled the urge to rub at the rim of the arc reactor. **“Not especially, but I expect you’re going to make me do it anyway. Remember that, uh, that cave that one time? The one with all the DIY surgery? I assume you do, being, you know, all omnipresent and everything.”** He made a gesture to include Fury, the SHIELD-sponsored interrogation room, the works. They probably even kept their bathrooms bugged. Hell, they probably kept _Tony’s_ bathrooms bugged. **“Well, I wasn’t the only one there.”**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick update--I realized the way I was posting these chapters didn't keep the section dividers I had to distinguish parts and time periods and all, so I've fixed that.

He woke up feeling like he’d been hit by a train.

His chest was on fire, his head throbbed, and his mouth tasted like roadkill. He remembered the soldier shouting at him to stay in the car, he remembered promptly ignoring that advice, he remembered the bomb skidding to a halt next to him and the sudden agony in his chest, feeling like his heart was being cut out of him with a scalpel—

He blinked sharply and squinted in the dim light around him, trying to make out his surroundings. There was an itch in his head, deep in his sinuses. He tried to drag in a breath, but it felt like half of his nose was blocked. He reached blindly for the obstruction, finding something and tugging. He felt the jerk through his sinuses and made a low sound of pain as he dragged the entire thing out. It was a long tube, thin and flexible, and he firmly decided that it had no right being up his _nose_. 

Tony fumbled for what looked like a cup of water, but his body was slow to react to his orders, fingers clumsy, and ended up knocking it off the stand next to him. He rolled onto his side to pursue it, and was met with resistance that tugged at his chest.

**“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”**

Tony looked up, startled, at the voice. It belonged to a man whose back was to him, but he caught one sharp eye watching him through a mirror. Tony turned, searching for the source of whatever was holding him back. There was a massive battery next to him, thick wires bristling from it. A surge of panic in his throat, Tony fumbled along the closest wire’s length and found it dipping under the bandages over his chest. Through them, though, he could make out a faint, symmetrical glow.

 **“Wh..”** He shuddered and clawed at the bandages, tearing them apart desperately to see what was underneath.

When he did, he wished he’d left the bandages be.

There was a circle of heavy machinery _in his chest_ , not _on_ , but _in_ —what had the man done to him? Had he really taken out his heart, and this was somehow keeping him alive just long enough for him to, what, get answers? To get a ransom?

Panic tightened Tony’s chest and his vision swam dark again.

 

* * *

 

When he woke the second time, it was to the scent of beans baking. The man was whistling quietly and stirring a cast iron skillet over a fire he’d made in the center of the cave. Gingerly sitting up, Tony couldn’t swallow a strange, incredulous laugh that sounded oddly tinny to his ears. A _cave_. Jesus. He’d started the day eating chocolate covered espresso beans in his bathrobe.

The man glanced up at the sound, and offered a knowing smile. Tony was tempted to swear at him, but movement in his periphery stopped him. He had to squint to recognize another cot-slash-dentist's chair in the room, on the opposite side of the fire as his own. It wasn’t empty.

Like himself, the man on it was swathed in dirty bandages and looked like he’d been dragged to hell and back. He was stretched out on his stomach on a cot of his own, bound loosely at the ankles and wrists, his eyes closed and the corners of his mouth tilted down slightly. Laying the way he was, cheek cushioned under his forearms, he reminded Tony, hilariously, of someone at a spa.

 **“Were you never taught that staring is rude?”** The stranger’s voice rasped slightly, but not enough to mask a trace of cool irritation.

Tony blinked. **“Uh, sorry.”**

The man’s eyes opened a sliver, slightly too bright within darker circles. They flicked over Tony from head to toe once before returning to meet his gaze. Tony had the odd, uncomfortable sensation of being pinned down like a butterfly on a cork board. **“Now you’re just being hypocritical.”**

Those eyes narrowed slightly, but Tony thought he could see the beginnings of a smile softening the lines of the other’s mouth. Obeying the protests of his chest, Tony lay back on his chair, chin lowered as he tried to peel back the bandages again.

 **“Want to take a look?”** The first man was handing him something now, something shiny, and Tony flinched back before he realized what it was. The mirror from earlier.

Tony took it slowly, watching the man closely before he leaned back again, wincing at the way his chest twinged. Tightening his grip on the mirror once he noticed his hand had been shaking, Tony widened the gap in the bandages again.

 **“What did you do to me?”** He breathed, eyes fixed on the—magnet?

The other made a soft noise like a laugh. **“What** **_I_ ** **did?”** He echoed, the inflection slight, **“Well, I saved your life.”**

Tony stared at him through the explanation, the urge to argue rising in him as his gorge did. None of this felt real, not even the way his chest continued to burn. **“Who are you? What is this?”** He gestured vaguely towards his chest.

 **“I’m Yinsen. That is an electromagnet, powered by a car battery. And it’s keeping the shrapnel,”** He paused his stirring to indicate the small container in Tony’s hand with the wooden spoon, **“From entering your heart.”** He said it like it was good news.

Tony moved to rake a hand through his hair, but a blink of red light in the corner of his eye stopped him. It was a security camera, pointed almost directly at him. Yinsen followed his stare. Before Tony could ask, a harsh noise and an accompanying yell burst from behind closed metal doors dotted with bullet holes. Tony hadn’t noticed them before.

 **“Stand up!”** Yinsen dragged Tony upright by the upper arm when he sat, frozen. He glanced to the other cot, but the pale man didn’t move. Hadn’t even opened his eyes. **“Do as I do.”** Yinsen hissed into his ear and put his hands up. Questions burning a hole in his tongue, Tony copied him.

Three men entered the room, heavily armed with weapons Tony recognized immediately. **“Those are my—how did they get my guns?”** Yinsen hushed him harshly.

More men were in the room now, and one stepped forward, arms spread wide, and began speaking in a language Tony didn’t recognize. He heard his name, but that didn’t do much to quell the worm of fear in his stomach. Once the man had finished speaking, he looked expectantly at Tony’s roommate. Cavemate.

 **“He says ‘Welcome, Tony Stark, the most famous mass murderer in the history of America.’”** He translated quickly, glancing rapidly between Tony and the other man. As their guest kept speaking, he kept translating. 

 **“He is honored to have you. He** — **wants you to build the missile. The Jericho missile that you demonstrated.”** Yinsen passed along a picture handed to him, which featured a black and white image of the missile in question. Tony looked from it to their visitor, head spinning. He’d been in the weapons business for years, but it had never crossed his mind, even during security briefings, to take the prospect of _kidnapping_ seriously. But he’d seen enough episodes of Star Trek and NCIS to know that hostage situations rarely ended with anything but a spectacular rescue. Barring that, the hostages’ death.

This felt like one hell of a dream. The type he only got the night after a drinking binge. The pain in his chest was too intense to just be in his head, though. Unfortunately. **“I’m not going to--no. No way.”**

They didn’t take well to that.

The rest of the day passed in snatches of light and darkness as they forced his head into the barrel again, again, again, and then finally the searing heat of the sun as they dragged him outside. It felt like the water had filled his brain, making him bleary and slow to concentrate, but he was present enough to recognize crates of his own weapons cluttering the lip of the cave. The white label of Stark Industries glared at him from every rock and patch of sand, so he glared back. He found it a bit more difficult to maintain his stare when the man who had spoken earlier stepped before him.

Yinsen relayed that there was everything necessary to build the Jericho and that the leader wanted a list of materials. The bargain was simple when Yinsen said it: Tony would build the missile, and when it was complete, he would be released. 

He had a hard goddamn time believing that.

Tony shook the hand extended to him anyway. Being killed later sounded a hell of a lot more appealing than being killed now.


	3. Chapter 3

After Yinsen’s pep talk ( ** _“This is going to be a very busy week for you, isn’t it?”_** ), Tony didn’t need another push. He slid back into the position of leadership easily, and though he had to keep his hands clenched in his pockets or at his side to keep their trembling from betraying him, he gave orders unsparingly.

When the Ten Rings’ men made their rounds, Loki rarely raised his hands. When he did, it was only with prompting, his bound wrists held as far apart as the shackles would allow. Sometimes, even when he’d been knocked onto the floor and was probably bleeding internally from the force behind the kicks that rained down on his abdomen, he would not put them up. He didn’t speak to them much, but when he did, Tony expected the surgical instruments Yinsen used on them both were a lot duller than Loki’s tongue. He crafted insults using words Tony had never heard of, and he had to look away from the scene to hide his smile.

**“What’s his deal?”** Tony asked lowly, leaning forward over the case of the latest missile he’d broken open. He was just working on muscle memory now, and the pale man on the other cot was a lot more interesting than dissembling missiles. Yinsen looked up, fingers briefly stilling. He glanced over his shoulder at the stranger’s prostrate form, but didn’t find what he seemed to be looking for, and refocused on collecting the palladium.

**“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”**

Tony scoffed softly. Yinsen seemed the type to avoid conflict at all cost, even if said conflict just meant asking a few simple questions. Though he supposed he couldn’t blame him. There was something vaguely intimidating about the man’s silent stillness. **“I think you do.”**

Following Yinsen’s hesitation, Tony pushed further. **“How’d he get here? Did you find him bleeding in the desert, too? Or is he one of the Ten Rings?”**

Yinsen was frowning.

**“Does he have a name?”**

**“Loki.”** The word sounded odd in the stranger’s voice, like he’d tasted something bitter. Like before, he hadn’t moved, but his half-hooded eyes were on Tony. **“If you have questions, asking me directly may be more productive than needling our host.”**

Tony felt his eyebrows creep up his forehead, but he certainly wasn’t going to pass up the invitation. Ignoring Yinsen’s protests, he abandoned the missile and turned. **“Alright, Loki.”** He began, feeling a faint pang at the brief flicker of surprise across the other’s features. _He didn’t think I’d do it,_ Tony realized. Well. He’d thought wrong. **“Where are you from? Loki isn’t a name I’ve heard before, I don’t think.”**

Loki regarded him for a moment before he seemed to come to some sort of decision. **“I do not expect you would believe me if I told you.”**

**“Try me.”** Tony shot back nearly before Loki had finished speaking, out of as much a challenge as genuine interest.

Again, when Loki eyed him, it felt like he’d just been slid under a microscope. He remained silent, though, and Tony pushed again. **“Your accent sounds kind of European. Are you from the UK?”**

**“Farther than that.”**

**“Which direction?”**

**“Upwards.”**

The laugh that burst from Tony’s chest brought a sharp sting with it, and he winced. **“What, like space? Are you an alien?”** He glanced at Yinsen, who had moved away to wipe his hands on a filthy towel. He seemed to be intentionally avoiding meeting Tony’s stare.

**“I know about the Drake Equation. Which of the hundred thousand are you?”** Loki shot him a quizzical look, and Tony couldn’t help but smile. He gestured dismissively and crossed his arms. **“Okay, let’s try again. Which planet are you from?”**

**“Planet.”** Loki echoed, lips twitching slightly. He looked like something about the word amused him, which was. Weird. Even if he wasn’t American, or _human_ , he still ought to know what a planet was.

Yinsen, who had reappeared in his field of vision, shook his head. **“Enough of this.”** He spoke sternly, like a parent gently scolding a child who had drawn with crayon on the wall. **“You need to rest. And you,”** He added, gesturing towards Tony with the unmistakable glint of metal in his hand, **“Have work to do.”**

Loki didn't speak again while the two set to work again, but Tony could feel his gaze on him the entire time.

 

* * *

 

Tony woke up to Loki leaning over him and nearly jumped out of his skin.

**“Jesus Christ--what the hell are you doing?”** He snapped a little blearily, scooting back on his chair. Loki’s eyes, which were even greener up close, didn’t meet his. They were fixed on the glowing circle in his chest.

Tony had finished the arc reactor the day before, and he’d noticed Loki watching from time to time, but he’d chalked it more up to boredom than sincere curiosity. Whatever had been done to the guy, Loki didn’t move much. Just lay there, occasionally shifting and grimacing as if he was laying on a bed of nails, and watched.

**“You are imaginative.”**

The compliment-- _was_ that a compliment?--made Tony blink. **“Uh. Thanks.”**

Loki still wasn’t looking at him. Standing seemed to be taking a lot of energy from him so Tony moved, drawing his legs closer to him, to give him room to sit. This seemed to get Loki’s attention; he looked at Tony with something flicking through his eyes too quickly for Tony to identify before sitting. He did so as if he were hundreds of years old, sighing in relief as the burden of his own weight became something else’s responsibility. The sharp lines of his profile were outlined by the arc reactor’s glow, and in the focused light, Tony could see spots of blood on the bandages across his back.

**“You refused them before. What has changed? What has renewed your interest in your own life?”** The questions came in a rush, low and urgent, as if Loki had been holding them back for some time. Tony felt the back of his neck begin to heat, uncomfortable with the idea that Loki had been spending so much time watching him. Trying to figure him out.

He opened his mouth to answer, trying to pick which part to address first, but his brain provided him with nothing. Loki pressed on, leaning forward slightly, hands braced on the mattress between them.

**“You say you are in the business of feeding war as if death is of no consequence to you, but you are haunted by what the Ten Rings has done here.”** It wasn’t a question. **“You are no heartless warmonger. Why, then, did you agree? What has given you the energy to ward off Death herself with this--”** He broke off, palm a sudden pressure against the arc reactor. Tony jerked back the moment Loki did, who seemed to have been as stung by the touch as Tony had been.

**“Don’t,”** Tony’s voice was loud compared to Loki’s, loud in the silence of the cave. Loki winced at it, but Tony refused to feel guilty. **“Touch that.”** There was a slight tremor in his voice, the scar tissue around the electromagnet still tender, and Loki’s eyes sharpened even as he sat back.

**“Forgive me. I did not intend to hurt you.”** That sounded weirdly genuine, from someone whose first words to him had been a scolding. Tony swallowed, lowering his own hand from where he hadn’t noticed it covering the arc reactor. Like it had been clutching at his heart, as if he could protect it.

From Loki? Or from the shards of shrapnel already embedded there?

**“It’s fine,”** He said, after a moment. His heart was still pounding. **“Just--personal space. Okay? I need mine.”** Loki had risen from his cot and approached the worktable to glance over the blueprints. This was the first time, Tony realized, that he’d seen Loki out of bed. He seemed steady enough on his feet, even if he had to grip the edge of the table to keep his balance. Even in the dark, he looked like a walking skeleton.

**“You’re not building the missile.”**

There was no upwards tilt to Loki’s words. It was another statement, not a question. He was looking at Tony now, expectantly, nonetheless.

Tony wondered, for a chilling moment, if Loki had been planted in the cave as some sort of interrogator, some sort of spy. But if he was the first, he was fairly shitty at it. Tony had the feeling professionals wouldn’t let themselves get caught staring in the middle of the night. As for the second, it had been obvious that Tony hadn’t been making a Jericho for a while now. If Loki had been waiting for reason to report back to the Ten Rings, he could have gotten it a lot sooner. But Loki just looked at him, expression veiled but thoughtful. **“No. I’m not.”**

 

* * *

 

Tony worked through the night and into what he assumed was the morning. After Tony had confirmed his suspicions, Loki had gone back to his cot. If Tony had to guess, he would say it was because he had run out of strength, not accusations.

_Is it an accusation if it’s true?_

Tony scowled at the diagram of the suit’s rockets before him. Something about Loki put him on edge. Something more than just his secluded, secretive demeanor. It was like static electricity gathered around him, charging whatever space Loki occupied.

**“You’re stuck.”** Yinsen set a plate of something edible before him. Tony didn’t bother looking up to see what it was.

**“Am not.”**

**“You’re not working.”**

**“What would you say I’m doing, then?”**

**“I’d guess you aren’t making a missile.”** Yinsen’s frown made lines from the edges of his eyes to the corners of his mouth, but he didn’t look upset. Not quite. He nudged the plate towards Tony again.

**“I’m not.”** Tony replied flatly, assuming Yinsen had overheard his conversation with Loki last night. And the man wasn’t stupid; he’d been helping Tony bend metal into a vambrace the day before. _He’d_ just been polite to keep his mouth shut.

Tony transferred his glare from the paper to where Loki was lying, back facing him. The bastard had accused _him_ of poor manners. At least Tony hadn’t woken him up with wildly invasive, personal questions in the middle of the goddamn night. 

Surrendering, he accepted the plate. Beans, again, but this time with some corn and chilies mixed in. **“What are we celebrating?”**  

**“Your success.”** Yinsen nodded at the outline of the arc reactor where it hid under his shirt. **“Though I doubt this is sufficient for the scale of it.”**  

Tony frowned. When Yinsen talked like this, it was usually because he was trying to elicit a confession. **“I’ll take it. Thanks.”**

Yinsen’s eyes narrowed, confirming Tony’s suspicions. He was after something. **“An arc reactor is a source of immense energy, I’ve heard. Even a small one.”**

**“Stark Industry’s finest breakthrough to date.”** Tony agreed, toasting the arc reactor with his fork. Yinsen was going to have to push this time. He was too tired to play games. 

**“I have a theory.”**

**“Lay it on me.”**

**“You’re planning to escape. You’re building a suit. One with flight capacity, no less.”** Voice so soft it was almost a whisper, he tapped a finger on the sketch of the boot rockets. **“And you’re going to fight your way out.”** His tone seemed to suggest he didn’t approve.

**“What else am I supposed to do?”** Tony let his fork drop, not caring that it spattered bean paste onto his wrist. He forced himself to lower his voice before continuing. **“I’m not giving** **_terrorists_ ** **a weapon.”**

**“You already have.”** Yinsen hissed back, and Tony suppressed the urge to bare his teeth.

**“This is different.”**

**“How? People would die from the Jericho. People have died from the rest of your missiles, the rest of your guns, so why bother?”** He sounded just like Loki.

**“Because this I know about. This I** **_can_ ** **stop, and I have to.”** Tony put his face an inch from Yinsen’s, rage and fear and despair crowding his throat. From the corner of his eye, he could see the flicker of movement from Loki’s corner that indicated he had turned to watch the interaction.

**“Nobody else dies because of me.”** He leaned back to address them both, jaw clenched so tightly he felt a muscle leap in it. **“Nobody.”**

Yinsen held his gaze, and the turn of Loki’s face suggested he too was watching Tony. Looking for cracks, maybe. Waiting to see if he’d break.

He wouldn’t.

  
**“Alright.”** Yinsen’s voice was calm, but there was something pleased in his expression. It was overshadowed by seriousness and the deep lines around his eyes, but there. Tony got the feeling he’d passed some sort of test that had been running since Yinsen had attached the car battery to his heart. **“We’re going to need to move fast.”**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited almost 200 people have read this!! Thank you for checking it out, and I hope you're continuing to enjoy it!
> 
> This chapter contains some fairly explicit gorey stuff, torture, and a panic attack, so have fun with that.

The third time the Ten Rings entered the cave, they came for Loki.

Tony and Yinsen had scrambled to cover the most incriminating blueprints and Tony had already summoned his usual excuses ( **“** ** _I need more time, you try building a missile in a cave with your bare hands and a soldering torch,”_** ) but the men brushed right past him to grab Loki’s shoulders and haul him to his feet. Though the treatment looked rough to Tony, Loki didn't make a sound and didn't struggle. He certainly didn't help them either, though; the two had to drag him to the door and through it. They hadn’t even glanced at Tony nor Yinsen to ensure their hands were up.

Once the door had been bolted shut again, Tony flipped his welding mask back down, bracing himself for the sound of screams.

To his immense relief, they never came. Instead, in what felt like an hour or two, judging by how sweaty he got behind the mask, the men hefted Loki back in, shoving him through the door and bolting it after him. Yinsen was at his side in an instant and pulled one pale arm over his shoulders, straining to get Loki back onto the bed. Tony followed, taking Loki’s other arm. Once more, he didn’t help. Didn’t try to get back on his feet.

He was making a sound and Tony thought, stomach dropping, that he was crying. What was he supposed to do with _that_? After a moment spent listening closely, stomach turning at the sight of the flaps of skin and muscle hanging like grotesque wings from Loki’s back, he realized what it was.

Loki was _laughing_.

 **“What did they do to you,”** Yinsen hissed, and Tony was shocked at the venom in his voice. Maybe the two knew each other; were old friends, though Loki hardly seemed the medical type. Or the terrorist type. Even with his hair helplessly matted and his time mostly spent silently staring up at the ceiling, Loki struck him as someone who might have been affluent before he’d ended up here. Someone with a lifestyle like Tony’s. Maybe he’d been a politician, or some foreign dignitary, given how he seemed to carry himself like his posture would be criticized if it wasn’t perfect.

 **“It will...it will heal.”** Loki responded, words fracturing with a soft sound of pain as his back hit the chair.

 **“Keep him upright.”** Yinsen ordered and made for his medical supplies, leaving Loki sagging slightly against Tony. He adjusted quickly to account for the other’s weight, arms burning. Loki’s head had lolled to the side and he was watching him, eyes a bit glazed. Even now, there was little emotion on his face, but Tony noticed that his mouth had tightened with pain.

 **“Help me put him on his stomach.”** Yinsen was back, bandages bundled under his arm and what looked like surgical instruments hanging from his fingers. Tony obeyed without question and jerked back at what he saw.

Loki’s back was a ruin, layers of skin and muscle stripped back and left dangling, like the person trying to cut them off had changed their mind at the last moment. Beneath the mess of blood was the asymmetrical curves of ribs that seemed to have been broken but didn’t look like they were healing right. There was scar tissue on his back and the pieces of it that had been cut away, and Tony barely swallowed back the urge to vomit at the visual of the Ten Rings doing this to him, over and over, letting him recover just enough before starting the process over again.

Tony stepped back when Yinsen went to work, entirely in his element. He was sterilizing a needle even as he cleaned the wounds, and though Loki didn’t make a sound, he twitched whenever Yinsen touched him. He was silent even as Yinsen began to stitch him up, and Tony hurried away to put his head between his knees, bile rising in his throat.

 **“Feeling squeamish?”** He jumped; Loki had turned his head and was watching him with one gleaming, fever-bright eye. There was something wild there, something savage, but at least he’d stopped _laughing_. At his own _skinning_.

God, if this was what the Ten Rings were doing to Loki, what would they do to _him_?

Clenching his jaw against the frisson of fear that moved down his spine, Tony returned to his chair and tried not to listen to Yinsen’s muttered swears.

Loki must have passed out at some point, because when Yinsen finally stepped away, a rusty streak on his forehead from wiping the back of a bloody hand across it, he didn’t move. Catching Tony’s eye, Yinsen offered a weak smile and half-gestured at Loki’s body, but whatever words he’d intended to explain the situation seemed to die in his throat. Tony didn’t bother to ask. Even when Yinsen had had his hand _inside_ Tony’s chest cavity, he hadn’t been this shaken.

 

* * *

 

Loki was in Germany. More specifically, he was in Stuttgart, at some fancy convention, wearing a suit. Wearing a _scarf_. At least he was wearing _something_. A suit was better than filthy rags hanging off him in bloody strips, but still. The last time Tony had seen the guy in person, he’d looked like he was on his last legs. Even in the footage from before, he’d been paler than usual and drenched with sweat. Now he was polished from head to toe. It even looked like he’d brushed his hair and put product in it.

He looked nothing like he had in the cave, emaciated and paranoid, but Tony would recognize those eyes anywhere. He stared at the looped footage for a second longer before he made a beeline for his suit. Fury wouldn’t be pleased that he showed up without being called, but he didn’t care. He wanted answers.

The fighting stopped the second Tony landed, hands raised and repulsors primed to fire. Steve and Loki both straightened and turned to look at him, wearing similarly shocked expressions. Steve’s quickly became resigned to faint annoyance, but several changes flicked across Loki’s face, rapid and vulnerable, before it neutralized. Tony thought he caught panic there, and fear, like Loki was some sort of cornered animal. With him, Steve, and Tony forming the points of a triangle, maybe he did.

 **“Stark,”** Loki greeted, voice smooth and cold. Impersonal. Tony shouldn’t have felt as disappointed as he did. **“You look well.”**

 **“Yeah, you too.”** That wasn’t a _total_ lie, but still, Tony could see the rings around Loki’s eyes under his bizarre helmet (were those supposed to be _horns_?). He could see the difficulty Loki was having remaining upright. Either the Captain was a better fighter than Tony had given him credit for after spending all that time flash frozen, or Loki hadn’t done that much healing since Tony last saw him.

To his left, Rogers looked between them both without moving his head, the exchange confirming what he already knew. It was a careful, calculated movement. Very soldierly. Fury had made Tony stand up during the briefing and share what he remembered about Loki. What he thought would be useful. Even though he’d seen the footage of Loki brainwashing Barton and killing half a dozen highly trained agents on his way out with the Tesseract, he couldn’t bring himself to consider much worth sharing. Loki had saved his life. It didn’t sit right to betray him at the first possible moment. And several year old debts aside, Tony couldn’t ignore the memory of the scars across Loki’s back or how helpless he’d seemed when he thought nobody was looking. He didn’t seem the type to just go on a homicidal rampage out of nowhere.

Loki moved like a bullet the moment Rogers’s eyes were off him, striking before the good Captain had the opportunity to ask the same redundant question Tony had been hearing since Loki had first shown up: **_“You_ ** **know** **_him?”_ **

Rogers rolled with the impact of the blow to his temple and was on his feet again in a heartbeat, shield ready to strike, but Tony was faster. Loki took in the impressive array of weapons pointed at his face and slowly raised his hands, elaborate armor fading into ribbons of light.

Loki was compliant and stubbornly silent as Rogers guided him into the plane. He remained so as he was made to sit at the back, and fixed his eyes resolutely on a point on the cabin straight across the walkway. As Tony and Rogers spoke quietly at the front of the Quinjet about Loki’s potential plans and Coulson’s obsessive hobby, Tony snuck glances at their amenable prisoner. He looked older than he had in Yinsen’s care, as if he’d aged at an accelerated rate. It was all in set of his jaw, in his eyes. Some anti-aging cream would do him wonders.

It was only when the plane rocked slightly, the sound of thunder rumbling overhead, that his stony demeanor changed. Loki sat bolt upright, eyes snapping to the ceiling as his face somehow paled even further.

 **“What’s the matter?”** Rogers asked, **“Scared of a little lightning?”**

 **“I’m not overly fond of what follows,”** Loki replied coolly, but then the back of the Quinjet exploded open before Rogers could reply and suddenly there was a whole lot of red fabric and blond hair billowing and then Loki was being dragged to his feet by someone with a arms that looked like they’d give John Cena a run for his money. The last thing Tony saw before the bedazzled newcomer flung himself and Loki both into the storm was Loki’s terrified, bloodless face.

 

* * *

  

It was several hours (or, at least, what felt like several hours--Tony still had no way to gauge the passing time) before Loki moved. He stirred slowly and made a low sound of pain, reaching blindly towards his shoulder blades as far as his bonds would let him. Waking slowly, Tony moved to stop him but needn’t have bothered; Loki’s face contorted and he lowered his arms, still except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He turned his head and, as Tony watched, slipped back out of consciousness. _What happened to you,_ Tony thought, feeling a twist of uneasy sympathy in his stomach. He lowered himself back onto his chair and closed his eyes again.

It felt like he had only slept for a minute when he was wrenched back out of sleep. It took him a moment to recognize what had awoken him, but when he did, he wished that he didn’t.

Loki’s screaming was enough to make Tony miss his laughing.

He’d torn loose of his restraints and was thrashing so hard he began to slip from his cot. Tony lunged forward and managed to catch him by the armpits before he fell, but Tony’s legs buckled under the sudden weight and he landed in an awkward squat, Loki sprawled across his lap. The jolt seemed to wake him, but not entirely drag him from whatever nightmare he was having; Loki flinched back from where his body touched Tony’s and snarled, looking more animal than man with his eyes wild, _terrified_ , back arched and fingers curved into claws. For a moment, the only movement in the room was Loki’s chest heaving before those claws came for Tony’s eyes.

 **“Woah, hey!”** Tony leaned back, grabbing for Loki’s wrists. Jesus, the guy was _strong_. **“It’s me, it’s--”**

 **“I won’t go back,”** Loki hissed, not seeming to hear Tony’s protest. Or even to fully see him. **“I won’t say yes to him, he can strip me to the** **_bone_** **\--I am** **_not_** **\--”** His voice fractured and he drew back into himself, arms jerking free of Tony’s grip. Loki planted one hand on the ground, the other pressing so hard against his own chest that his knuckles turned even whiter than usual.

 **“Hey,”** Tony said again, this time softer. Loki was shaking, and Tony had the impression of a cornered animal. **“It’s alright. You’re--”** He’d been about to say ‘you’re safe’, but given where they were, he could see Loki laughing at that, even in his current state. **“You’re okay.”**

The breath Loki drew rattled in his chest, but at least he wasn’t hyperventilating anymore. Tony kept talking, putting his hands up slowly. **“No one’s gonna hurt you here, okay? It’s just you, me, and Yinsen. And we’re all on the same side.”**

Loki said nothing, but his breath continued to even out. After what felt like a few minutes, Tony edged a little closer, freezing when Loki flinched. **“You’re on the floor,”** He explained; from what he’d said, Tony wasn’t sure Loki knew where he was. **“It can’t be good for your back. Can I help you back onto your bed?”**

Loki’s throat convulsed as he swallowed and Tony glanced helplessly around for Yinsen. He was sitting up in his own cot, but had his hands folded in his lap as if he had no intention to help. He held Tony’s gaze, but before he could speak, he caught the jerky movement of Loki’s nod, a quick up-down of his chin, in the corner of his eye.

Still moving slowly, Tony only lowered his hands when he was close enough to loop one arm under Loki’s knees and the other gingerly around his shoulders. He tried to place it under where he imagined the damage stopped, but Loki hissed anyway, and Tony began to draw back.

 **“Just do it.”** Loki seemed to be gritting his teeth, every word clipped. Tony obeyed, heaving Loki into his arms and, as quickly as he could, rising onto his feet. Where Loki had been heavy enough to knock him over before, he now felt alarmingly light. Against Tony’s body, he could feel the sharp jut of a hipbone and the individual lines of ribs, and under his fingers, Loki’s knees seemed unnaturally narrow. This was the closest he’d ever been to the other, and Tony didn’t like what he saw. Loki had always seemed gaunt, but up close he looked downright skeletal. How long had the Ten Rings been keeping him here?

At the sound of Loki’s pained exhale, Tony shook himself from his thoughts and placed Loki gingerly on the cot, trying to arrange his long, thin limbs so that all of him fit on the narrow frame. It didn’t; from the calf-down Loki’s legs hung off the bottom of the cot, but hadn’t they always? Tony left it be and retreated, watching Loki carefully for any other signs of distress before he returned to his chair.

Yinsen was still watching him.

 **“Why didn’t you help?”** Tony asked, lowering his voice. Even if Loki looked like he’d passed out again, Tony had the feeling he wasn’t the type to enjoy being talked over.

 **“You were doing fine on your own,”** Yinsen replied evenly, as if he’d just witnessed something as commonplace as a beer commercial during the Superbowl. How often had he done what Tony had just done? After all, if he’d been here as long as he said, he must have been taking care of Loki for some time.

Tony didn’t have a response to that, so he laid back down, thoughts churning.

 

* * *

 

When Loki regained consciousness to find Tony staring at him, he didn’t scold him. Just stared back until Tony felt a little creepy. _Less creepy than the guy who just lays there, doing nothing except saying cryptic shit and screaming in the middle of the night._

Tony was tempted to look away, knowing _he_ wouldn’t want to be stared at when he’d just been caught being vulnerable, but the itch to know something about the other won out. **“What happened to you?”** Tony voiced his thoughts, picturing the stream of drying blood down Loki’s back from where his _wings_ had been cut from him. **“How did you get here?”**

Loki’s eyes closed again and he smiled slowly. **“Good luck, I suppose.”**

Tony scowled at him and had the uncanny feeling Loki could feel it, given how his smile widened. **“Are you always this vague?”**

A fragment of a green eye looked at him again. **“Are you always this obstinate?”**

**“Yeah, actually.”**

Loki made a breathless sound that might have been a laugh, but he didn’t say anything else, and Tony went back to his milling. After a couple of minutes of sweating behind the mask, Loki spoke again. Tony almost missed it over the whine of metal against metal.

**“I’m here under the same circumstances you are, I expect. They want something from you. They want something from me as well.”**

Tony sat back slowly, cautious. How much could he ask before Loki shut down again? **“They want me to build them a weapon,”** He said, gesturing at the metal exoskeleton before him. Maybe if he was vulnerable first, Loki would respond. And hopefully he wouldn’t realize that the half-formed suit looked nothing like the Jericho. **“One of the missiles my dad’s business--my business--produces.”**

Loki was watching him now. Encouraged, Tony continued. **“It’s the most advanced of its kind, technology way beyond anything else. Definitely beyond Hammer.”** Loki shot him a quizzical glance, but Tony waved it off. **“Another technology company.”**

Loki gave him a look.

Tony paused, defensive. **“Weapons are technology. Technically.”**

Loki hummed lowly, sounding unconvinced. **“You make weapons for your livelihood, then.”**

 **“Well, sure. Mostly.”** He wasn’t going to go into the whole billionaire thing. If Loki didn’t recognize him already, he didn’t need to.

**“Why?”**

The question caught him entirely off guard. He’d--never really thought about that. The demand was there, so he supplied. He’d never had to defend his involvement with anyone but journalists who he brushed off easily. **“It was my father’s business. I took it over.”**

Loki looked at him for a long moment, a ghost of a bitter smile playing about his lips. **“Your father.”** He repeated at length, **“Is he alive?”**

 **“No.”** Tony must have tensed up because something in Loki’s expression changed, almost softened.

**“Neither is mine.”**

Tony blinked. That was the most Loki had revealed about himself the whole time they’d been cooped up together. Still, though, that didn’t leave him with much. Just that the guy had a dead dad, something he was running from, and an incredible tolerance for pain.

**“So--what do the Ten Rings want from you?”**

His eyes were closed again, but Loki still seemed to be paying attention; a thin line formed between his eyebrows. He looked like he was thinking.

 **“Information, I suppose. They ask questions similar to the ones you have. Where I come from, who I am, how I am able to survive what has been done to me. Though they don’t often give me opportunity to** **_answer_** **.”** He seemed entertain by that, though Tony couldn’t fathom why.

**“Well, you’re a mysterious guy. Can you blame them for being a little curious?”**

**“Curiosity is not what drives them.”** A note of bitterness had crept into Loki’s voice, and Tony had the vague sensation he was approaching a cliff, even if he couldn’t see where the abrupt drop began. He edged away from it carefully.

**“Alright, sorry.”**

His eyes were back open again. Like Loki couldn’t make up his mind on whether he wanted to sleep or talk. The way he was looking at Tony, like he was a puzzle Loki was trying to put together, made him feel vaguely itchy.

 **“Just--like I said,”** Tony flipped his mask back down, getting the feeling that Loki would end the conversation if he didn’t. **“We’re on the same team. You, me, Yinsen.”**

Loki made that breathless, disbelieving laugh again. **“I would sincerely like to believe that.”**

 

* * *

 

When Tony finally got clearance to the room Loki’s cell was in, Loki greeted him with a cold, impersonal smile. The same one Tony had watched him give Fury from the video screens in the debriefing room. (Was there anything the Helicarrier _didn’t_ have? Tony wanted one.)

 **“So,”** Tony pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek for a moment, aware of his heart thudding inside his ribcage. If he didn’t start talking immediately, he’d turn tail and run. Loki’s stare alone looked like it could burn holes in the thick glass surrounding him. **“You’ve been gone a while. What’s it been, three years?”**

Loki said nothing, didn’t move, and didn’t blink. Like he was carved out of stone, with coals for eyes.

 _Wow, Tony,_ he thought to himself, smiling faintly, _poetic._

**“Where have you been?”**

Finally shifting, Loki indicated the ceiling in a vague gesture before his hand returned to clasp with the other behind his back. **“Thor didn’t warrant a guess?”**

**“Thor had a lot to say, actually.”**

A muscle in Loki’s jaw twitched, but it was there and gone so quickly Tony wasn’t entirely sure it had been there in the first place. **“Do elaborate, if you would be so kind.”**

 **“Well, he says you’re working with something called the Chitauri.”** There was another twitch across Loki’s features, and this time, Tony definitely saw a flash of fear. That expression reminded him of the last time he’d seen it. The memory of the mess of Loki’s back and the way he’d quivered during his--what had that been? A panic attack?--rose in the forefront of Tony’s mind. Following that came the grainy picture of Loki’s face when he arrived in the SHIELD bunker, drenched in sweat and staggering. But Loki said nothing, so Tony continued. **“And that you’re adopted.”**

Loki’s lips curved slowly, and something like bitterness entered his eyes. **“I’m not surprised,”** He remarked icily, turning his head several angles to the right. **“He’s eager to distance himself from me.”**

Tony frowned. He could tell a complicated family history when he saw it, given that he was probably the world’s leading expert in daddy issues. **“Then why’s he here, if your, uh, planet is so far away?”**

Loki was looking at him sharply before he’d finished the sentence, and Tony shifted his weight to confirm that that glare hadn’t melted him. But he didn’t look away. He stared down lawyers and news reporters and members of the US government on the daily. He could stare down a Norse god. And he _did_ , he realized with giddiness that was probably inappropriate given the current situation. With a sound like a growl, Loki dropped his gaze. **“He’s not here for me. He’s here for what I carry.”**

 **“The Tesseract.”** It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out. Loki’s smile embittered further, but his voice when he answered was even.

**“It belongs to Asgard.”**

**“Asgard. Yeah.”** Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. He was still working on wrapping his head around the whole nine realms thing. Not to mention the whole magic thing and alien army thing and mighty hammer thing. Jesus.

 **“It bothers you.”** It wasn’t a question, and Loki’s expression had softened a touch as he stepped closer to the glass.

 **“Well, yeah. I didn’t believe you when you told me--you implied it, really--about the whole extraterrestrial thing. Now I have the proof, and I don’t know how much you know about science, but I have to abide by that. Change my whole world view, you know.”** He offered a smile that Loki returned blandly. For all his fancy leather and towering height and carefully measured responses, he still looked tired.

**“You’re intelligent, for your kind. I’m sure you’ll manage.”**

**“Wow, thanks.”** Tony raised his eyebrows, tempted to point out that the only reason Loki was still alive was that one of his kind had bothered to keep him that way. **“You still look like roadkill, by the way. How’s the back?”**

As he’d expected, Loki bristled at that, eyes quickly flicking to the camera at the edge of his cell and away. Those scars were something he didn’t want SHIELD to know about, then. Because they made him look weak? Or was there something else going on? Something to do with what seemed to be an overprotective big brother, maybe?

 **“About as well as the hole in your chest, I expect.”** Satisfaction was brittle in Loki’s eyes and Tony smiled at him, the skin around his arc reactor prickling. That was fair, he supposed. Tit for tat and everything. Tit for tat _exactly_ , actually--how did Loki know he didn’t want SHIELD poking around his chest? Slick bastard.

 **“Yeah, alright. Touchy subject. I get it.”** Acknowledging that wouldn’t make Fury any less handy, with either of them. Tony raised his hands briefly before letting them drop and started a slow circuit around the cell. Instead of walking the inside of the glass, Loki took a seat on the bench that had been provided for him and looked straight ahead. Like he was trying to drown Tony out in favor of something else. In favor of working on his nefarious plan, probably.

 **“Is this what you usually wear?”** Tony gestured at the extensive amount of leather--really, how many cows died to dress Loki this morning? **“It looks good. Suits you. All the layers.”** No response. True to his usual frantic coping skills, Tony continued to fill the silence, one hand tucked in his pocket while he continued to use the other to gesture. **“You’re the kind of guy who would probably show up to a backyard barbeque in a three-piece.** **_With_ ** **a pocket square.”** Nothing. Not even a twitch on Loki’s face. The only motion Tony could identify was the rising and falling of his breastplate with his chest and the occasional blink. **“It suits you much better than a bunch of bloody rags, anyway.”**

 **“Why are you here, Stark?”** Tony paused at that, turning to look Loki in the eye before he kept moving. Turning to _try_ and look him in the eye, anyway. Loki continued to stare ahead of himself at some point Tony couldn’t identify. His expression was still stolid, but something about the tone of his voice made Tony think he was taking a gamble to ask the question. It showed a degree of vulnerability, of trust: Tony could lie and there would be no way for Loki to know. No way outside the whole God of Lies thing.

 **“I wanted to see you. Check on you. Like I said, it’s been a while.”** Tony shrugged and hoped Loki could hear the sincerity in his voice. And also that nobody would tease him for saying something that sounded like a line out of a Nicholas Sparks movie. The moment he left, Fury would probably chase him down in order to run every test in the books to make sure he wasn’t possessed. 

 **“You’re not here to talk me out of my plan? To make me see the error in my ways?”** Loki turned his head to finally meet his gaze, but his delicately arched brows didn’t suggest amusement.

This was a trap, Tony knew, but he couldn’t see the way out. He couldn’t see the cheese or the spring threatening to break his neck. It was lucky, then, that he knew a thing or two about gambling. (And it didn’t hurt that he was notoriously charming.) He grinned, depending on the smile lines around his eyes to sell it. **“If I’ve learned anything about you, it’s that you’re a stubborn son of a bitch. We’ll fight you if we have to, and we’ll kick your bony ass, but I don’t think you’re doing this lightly.”**

Loki returned his smile, and while it lacked the distinct Stark charm, it didn’t make him any less easy on the eyes. **“I would sincerely like to believe that.”**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so incredibly thrilled with the way this has been received!! Almost 500 hits, oh my god! Thank you to everyone who has read, left kudos, and commented!
> 
> Sorry this one is so short, but the next one's longer. (And will be even longer once I actually finish it.)

When the suit was finally finished, even Loki looked impressed (when he’d finished snickering at the faceplate, anyway). He hadn’t been very talkative before Tony had interrogated him, but now he was downright taciturn. The only time he had spoken since their conversation several nights ago had been when Yinsen had almost eaten coal. Raza had held it an inch from Yinsen’s face, its glowing embers reflected in his eyes, wide with terror, when Loki had shifted.

 **“Stop.”** He had said simply, the order ringing loud and clear in the stunned silence that followed it. Raza had turned slowly, eyebrows raised in challenge, the coal pointed at Loki like a loaded gun.

 **“** ** _You_ ** **want to--”**

 **“He will have your missile for you tomorrow.”** Loki hadn’t looked at Tony to confirm the timeline, his attention laser focused on Raza, whose expression tightened. Then Loki’s eyes had seemed suddenly greener, and Raza had held his stare for a long moment before he had dropped the clamp and cut a short order at his guards. They had looked surprised, but had obediently followed Raza as he had exited with one final look at Tony. **“Tomorrow.”** He had repeated, and Tony hadn’t waited for the door to grind shut behind him before whirling, heart pounding. He had frozen then, though, torn between going to help Yinsen up and demanding Loki tell him exactly how the _hell_ he was supposed to finish anything in twenty four hours. But Loki had been bent off his cot towards Yinsen, one hand at the small of his back in a way that looked oddly comforting coming from someone who seemed to have any sense of empathy locked behind iron bars.

Yinsen had waved him off, telling him to get back into his bed before he hurt himself, and Loki had frowned, but laid back with a wince and obeyed. He had glanced at Tony and scowled. **“I would think,”** He’d said in a tone that made Tony not want to disagree, **“You would have redoubled efforts to attend to.”**

And he had. And now the Mark I was gleaming in front of them in the dim light, and Tony felt a hollow, distant sort of pride at the accomplishment. It was tarnished by the bile that rose in his throat every time he thought about what its use would entail. He’d played first person shooters before, had his fair share of drunken brawls and sex that bordered on dangerous, but he’d never _killed_ anyone. Much less with a _flamethrower_. It was his hope that they’d see him coming and take off when their bullets did nothing. Assuming his design worked and he wouldn’t be killed on the spot because he’d overestimated the metal’s strength. (It was an assumption he didn’t feel like he had any choice but to make.)

It made him feel a little bit better to imagine Raza’s face when he came barrelling in to find that there was nothing in the cave that even remotely resembled the Jericho. Tony expected that moment would be coming soon, judging by the nervous glances Yinsen kept casting at the security camera pointed their way. Loki, for his part, was splitting his time evenly between looking at Tony and looking at his creation. Like he couldn’t quite reconcile that Tony had actually been able to follow through on the ridiculous deadline Loki had all but pulled out of his ass the day before.

 **“Let’s get you dressed.”** Yinsen said, sounding at once resigned and almost proud. Tony hoped he wouldn’t cry, but he wouldn’t hold it against him. Not when his own hands shook. It took them several minutes to get him into the suit, checking the fit around his arms and ensuring the pieces didn’t leave any gaps, but though they were quick the Ten Rings were quicker. Loki was the first to look towards the door, and a few moments later, Tony caught the sound of heavy boots pounding on hard earth. Meeting Yinsen’s eyes, he offered a smile that didn’t feel very convincing. Yinsen returned it, more genuinely, and lowered the helmet onto his head.

Through the slits for his eyes, the events that unfolded before him seemed to happen from afar. Yinsen set the sequence the moment before the door burst open, knocked off its hinges by the strength of the blow. Half a dozen armed men poured into the room, guns pointed at him and they went off in blinding flashes, the impact of the bullets bruising even as they ricocheted off Tony’s breastplate. Instinctively, he threw his arms over his face and ducked his head before he remembered, _right, the suit._

The suit, which was not yet properly charged, the wires attached to it limiting his range of motion even more than the bulkiness of the suit itself. **“Come** **_on_** **,”** He hissed under his breath. It was hardly as if there was a battery gauge with a little number beside it; this was a product of Stark Industries, technically, not Apple.

 **“Whenever you’re ready,”** Yinsen shouted over the sound of the scattered gunfire, hunched behind an upturned table alongside Loki, who looked distinctly displeased.

 **“I’m working on it!”** Tony shouted back, but Yinsen was already moving. Abandoning a wide-eyed Loki, he lunged for what was apparently a weapons cache he’d tucked into a crack in the rock and straightened with a machine gun in hand. For a doctor, he seemed remarkably familiar with it, the butt braced against his shoulder.

 **“Yinsen,”** Loki began to say, a protest in his voice, but Yinsen was already moving, teeth visibly grit as he began to return fire.

 **“Stick to the plan!”** He shouted, and was moving. One of his bullets found its mark and its target toppled. His stillness made a surge of savage satisfaction heat Tony’s chest, distracting him only briefly from the fact that Yinsen could share the man’s fate at any minute, and he was standing there like a statue, a deadweight, and Yinsen was an idiot, what did he think he was _doing_? Tony looked desperately at the computer, willing it to work faster, because they’d planned for this, they’d thought about the timing--

Then Yinsen fell, the bullet holes in his chest gaping wider even than his mouth, and Tony’s roar echoed deafeningly within the helmet.

The lights above his head flickered and went out as power flooded into the suit, the hairs on Tony’s arms standing up at the sensation. He tore loose of the wires and struggled for a moment to coordinate his movements, the mechanisms of the suit moving but more slowly than his limbs within them. Yinsen lay motionless, glassy eyes catching the sparks that flew from the frayed ends of wires. Grief burning like acid in his gut, Tony lifted his head and hands both, thinking his flamethrowers would be an appropriate form of revenge.

Before he could follow through on that particular plan, there was a jerk of movement in the corner of his eye and Tony’s heart jerked with it. He hoped for a brief, hysterical moment that Yinsen had somehow survived, but it was Loki who had risen. Chains shredded like paper, he wore a snarl, his hands spread and fingers arced like talons. There was something feral, something _supernatural_ , about the way his eyes gleamed in the low light. The Ten Rings’ men seemed to notice it too, since they’d stopped short, guns raised over faces that suddenly seemed a lot paler. It didn’t take them long to start firing again, and Tony made to throw himself in the bullets’ path, but he needn’t have bothered.

Loki’s splayed fingers glowed white-green before the light burst forth, surging towards the faction of men. Loki roared and the light engulfed the six, almost blinding in its intensity. Tony’s ears popped and even through the suit he could feel the odd vibration in the air that made his teeth ache. By the time the flash faded, there was nothing left. Not even skeletons. And Loki hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Fingers still sparking green, he turned to face Tony, who was having a hard time remembering why he hadn’t thought to consider Loki a threat. **“Go.”** Loki ground out, wavering on his feet. Tony took a step forward to offer a hand, but Loki bared his teeth again, this time at him. It took all of Tony’s willpower not to flinch. He raised his hands, slowly, as Loki’s shook. **“** ** _Go!_ ** **”** He panted, the order softer this time but no less effective in jarring Tony from his shock. Because, really, what the _fuck_ had he just witnessed? The air continued to crackle with the discharge of energy but, as far as he knew, Loki hadn’t pulled a flash grenade out of his sleeve. Much less a flash grenade that could _vaporize_ people and leave the rest of the cave completely unscathed.

For whatever reason, _asking what the actual fuck, Loki?_ didn’t seem terribly appropriate, so Tony opted instead to haul ass towards the doorway. **“I’ll be back for you!”** He turned to call after himself, and pretended to miss the way Loki’s lips quirked like he’d just witnessed a particularly cruel practical joke.

 **“I would sincerely like to believe that,”** He said, the same way he had before, like he didn’t have any reason to think Tony was telling the truth. That seemed fair enough, given the damage he’d sustained--those kinds of scars had to go deeper than just his skin.

Well, then. Tony stepped into the light of day, blinding after having lived in near-total darkness for a quarter of a year. He would just have to give Loki one.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I've actually written in its entirety, and I'm working on the last one, but man.
> 
> I hate endings. I skip the last episode of Parks and Rec every time I watch it.
> 
> I'll do my best to get it out there soon, and in the meantime, I hope you enjoy!

He had been doing fine, all things considered. His heart had been running on a car battery, he’d busted out of three months of captivity, and he’d survived the press’s feeding frenzy on his announcement. Why weren’t they calling it ‘no weapons gate’? Or ‘peacegate’? Any of that would have been better than headlines claiming he was insane. That was true, of course, but still. They could be a little more creative.

He had been doing fine, then Christine Everhart shoved pictures of Gulmira under his nose, and all that fell to pieces.

Torching the terrorists that had ripped his heart a new one was profoundly satisfying (for him and the people at home who had turned this entire chapter of his life into Islamophobic propaganda, probably), and Tony kept his eyes peeled the entire time for a familiar head of long, dark hair.

He didn’t see Loki in the town, but that wasn’t worth gasping over. It’s not like Loki would stick around a place where he’d been tortured. Which either meant that he’d escaped entirely, or that he hadn’t escaped at all. Which then meant Tony would have to revisit the cave, and wasn’t that just exactly what this week needed.

Oh, well. At least a PTSD diagnosis would make the press a little more sympathetic.

 

* * *

 

It was just as miserable and dark as he remembered it. Darker even, maybe, without anyone inside. Raza must have moved to a new base of operations. (Calling it a hideout made it sound like he was fighting Team Rocket. He’d prefer them over the Ten Rings any day.)

It took him awhile, led by the lights of his hand repulsors and jumping at every sound (which were, more often than not, the echo of his own footsteps, the grate of metal against rock making each one almost impossibly loud), to find the room they’d been kept in. He’d practically turn tail and fled from the first chamber he’d found, which was much smaller than the one he’d shared with Loki and Yensin and barricaded by a thick door Tony had had to use a laser to cut down when the suit’s power wasn’t enough to shove open.

There had been only two things in the room: something like a dentist’s chair and a tray of tools that definitely weren’t dentist’s tools. Four months ago, Tony would have thought the red streaks along the chair’s torn padding was some sort of residue. Now, he knew better. The bloodstains roughly took the shape of a half-complete snow angel, complete with wings, and Tony’s stomach turned at the memory of the ruin of Loki’s back, of his laughter when he’d been dragged back into the cave, flaps of skin hanging loosely from his wasted body. Being back in that cave didn’t make him feel any less nauseous, but he’d made a promise, and though his track record wasn’t stellar, he meant to keep this one.

To his immense relief, there was nothing left in the cave. Nothing _organic_ , anyway, just scraps of metal Tony hadn’t ended up using and burn marks on the walls where Loki had taken out the Ten Rings men come to drown Tony for good. There were even remnants of the chains that had been used to restrain Loki scattered around his cot, the links scattered, but there had been no Loki.

That was a good thing, probably, wasn’t it? It was definitely better than a corpse, even when he could easily picture someone shoving a bag over Loki’s head and forcing him into a caravan. Dragging him along to keep torturing him, keep questioning him, until they got some answers. Tony wondered with a smirk that felt hollow if Loki had been telling them the same thing he’d told Tony; that he was some sort of alien from a galaxy far, far away. Given his rather spectacular display of pyrotechnics the last time Tony had seen him, he was inclined to believe that, at the very least, he wasn’t _entirely_ human.

Tony tipped his head back to look towards the sky, his display shifting to fill with information about the constellations, the weather, the flight paths of planes around the world. The world that Loki, apparently, didn’t belong to. With a surge of nausea, Tony remembered Loki’s panicked words-- ** _“I won’t go back,_** **_I won’t say yes to him, he can strip me to the_** **bone** ** _\--”_** \--and hoped that, wherever he was, it wasn’t with whoever had left him to die in that cave.

 

* * *

 

 After the drama of his brilliant theory that Loki would be at his tower, the reality was anticlimactic. Especially since they were dealing with aliens and power sources from outer space and Fury’s hand up his ass. Regardless, the first thing he said when his faceplate lifted, was the same thing he’d said to the rest of the Mystery Inc.: **“Son of a bitch.”**

Loki was there. Not, like Tony had expected, standing tall and staring down his nose like the diva Tony’d compared him to. Instead, he was lying on the cracked floor, eyes shut and brow furrowed slightly. The moment Tony stepped into the room, his eyes opened a slit and his forehead smoothed. **“Ah. It’s you.”**

**“Were you expecting someone else?”**

Loki gave an indeterminate grunt and closed his eyes again, almost as gray as the smashed concrete around him.

 **“What did you do to my floor?”** Tony risked a few slow steps forward, not failing to notice the minute way Loki twitched at every scrape of his boot over the concrete. God, he looked like he didn’t have a single square inch of skin that wasn’t bruised or covered in blood. How many bones had he broken? All of them?

 **“** ** _I_ ** **didn’t do anything.”** He sounded like he was trying for indigence, but it was entirely ruined by the hitch of pain in his voice. **“Your beast did.”**

It took Tony a moment to understand, but as soon as he did, the picture that formed in his mind of Loki being swung around by his ankle made him bark a laugh. Loki opened an eye to glare weakly at him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel guilty. It was _his_ tower being destroyed, after all. And it was hard to pretend there wasn’t a literal alien invasion going on outside. He was allowed to laugh at something if he felt like it. **“I warned you about him.”**

 **“So you did.”** Loki had planted each hand on either side of the crater and was pushing himself out of it, face pinched. Though it looked like he was sweating bullets, he managed to climb out and onto the stair above the wreckage, shoulders sagging.

 **“See? I don’t monologue aimlessly. Not like a certain someone.”** Loki didn’t so much as dignify the comment with a glare, his attention fixed on something outside as he wiped blood off his lips with the back of one wrist. Tony followed the line of his vision and quickly wished he hadn’t: Loki was staring at the gash in the sky with something like resignation on his face. He slowly traced the blue spear of the Tesseract’s blast down to where it originated, and Tony looked with him. Looked at Selvig’s device, and at Selvig himself where the man lay limp near his creation. Looked long enough to identify the distant rise and fall of his chest before looking back at Loki to complete the circle. Loki still didn’t meet his eye.

 **“So,”** Tony shifted, moving to stand behind his bar. He reached for two glasses, two ice cubes, and something stiff. They could both use that, he was certain. He filled his own glass to about a finger but was a good deal more liberal with how much he poured into Loki’s. The guy looked like he was in desperate need of a night of drinking until he passed out. It was a good thing Tony was an expert in hangover cures and that he didn’t mind sharing his bed. Despotic or otherwise, Loki wasn’t hard to look at. Even under all those pounds of armor.

But that wasn’t the most appropriate line of thinking right now. Maybe once they’d taken Loki into custody. Except now that was making Tony think about what he would look like in chains, and that wasn’t an improvement. Not if his goal was to _stop_ picturing Loki naked.

Tony took a swallow of his scotch before stepping back out from behind the bar.

Loki only spared him a cursory glance before accepting the glass that was offered to him. He gave it a sniff before he tossed its entire contents back without so much as wincing at the burn. Tony stared. It was only when Loki looked at him sideways, raising his eyebrows in what Tony took as a silent _well?_ that he finally fumbled to finish the comment he’d begun to make.

 **“You, uh. You don’t look so hot.”** Tony scowled at the brief upwards flicker of Loki’s eyes--did he just _roll his eyes_ at Tony?--as he settled onto the step next to him. When he winced, Loki _definitely_ smirked. The asshole.

 **“If that is your idea of a compliment, I can’t imagine what it is that lures women into your bed.”** Loki set his glass aside and looked back out the windows, following the path a Chitauri ship took through the air over the tower without moving his head. There was no fondness in his eyes that Tony could identify.

 **“It’s my charm, probably. And the fact that I’m, you know, a bajillionaire.”** Loki smiled faintly at that, but it was short-lived. He sighed heavily and looked down, away from the carnage outside. Looked at his hands, the skin bruised, several knuckles torn. He turned them, slowly, scrutinizing his palms as if he was looking for something. Tony blinked in surprise as a drop of liquid fell on the skin and looked up sharply only to stiffen. Was Loki _crying_?

He didn’t seem to be aware of it, his stare going straight through his hands. Straight through the floor, too, probably. He wasn’t moving, and it wasn’t much, but Tony could definitely make out wetness in his eyes and a single tear track down his cheek.

 **“Uh, Loki,”** Tony started carefully, at a loss. Should he, what, pat the guy’s shoulder? Somehow that didn’t seem like a very good idea. If he didn’t wind up hurting Loki, bruised up as he was, he’d definitely wind up getting hurt in return.

Loki barely twitched at the sound of his name but blinked rapidly and lifted his head. **“What was I…”** He trailed off, lifting one hand to his face. When he found it wet, he drew his fingertips back and stared at them as if he couldn’t quite understand what had happened. He made an odd, quiet sound, then, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. Tears flowing more freely now, he looked out at the portal, then back to Tony, eyes wide. He made a vague, aborted gesture towards the void, then dropped his shaking hand into his lap, looking for all the world like there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words. Which was strange, given how eloquent the bastard always seemed to be.

Tony held his gaze, trying to look gently encouraging, then jerked at the same time Loki did as his comm burst to life.

 **“Stark,”** Fury’s voice was tense, but more so than usual. On a good day, his anger level seemed to hover around grinding his teeth and furiously pressing the ‘close doors’ button in the elevator until it moved. Now, though, it sounded more like he was at rear-end-someone-who-cut-him-off stage. Maybe worse. **“We got a missile headed straight for the city.”** Yup, definitely worse.

 **“Shit,”** Tony hissed, **“How long?”**

**“Three minutes. Max. Payload would wipe out Midtown.”**

He was on his feet and halfway to his bracelets before he remembered Loki. _Loki._ Tony turned and met weary, expectant green eyes. **“You--”** He cut off at movement just outside and recognized the head of red hair immediately. Natasha was poised with Loki’s scepter pointed towards the blast of blue energy, her expression resolute as she reached for her ear.

 **“I can close the portal,”** He saw her lips move and heard the words a moment later in his comm, **“Does anyone copy? I can close the portal.”** Following Tony’s stare to the woman, Loki sat sharply upright, one hand flying to his side as he grimaced. His legs shifted under him like he was planning to stand.

 **“Wait,”** The word exploded from Tony, directed both at Natasha and Loki, who he found himself pointing desperately at. He mouthed the word again at Loki before repeating it into the comm. **“Wait. We’ve got a nuke coming in.”**

He stared at Loki for a long moment, tempted to say something else, or cuff him to something, but his cuffs were all the way in his bedroom closet and there was a _nuclear warhead_ headed their way, so no matter the expression in Loki’s eyes, he had to _go._

He grabbed his bracelets and made a beeline for the balcony, feeling Loki’s stare dig into his back with every step he took. **“And I know just where to put it.”**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL.
> 
> I've been working on this, on and off, for almost an entire year, and it feels wild to be done with it. It's received so much positive feedback, and I can't thank everyone who commented or kudoed enough! Thank you for reminding me why I love writing in the first place.
> 
> I've really enjoyed this, and I can't wait to keep writing, and I hope you'll keep reading. (I'd sincerely like to believe you will!)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this final chapter, and that you feel things. I know I did.

All things considered, New York looked alright. Aliens had come from a hole in the sky. Giant, flying, armored whales. Thor, too. Gods and aliens and superheroes had run around the streets, creating extensive structural damage and destroying revered national monuments and saving lives and blowing shit up. It had been chaos, but it had been controlled chaos. Contained to Manhattan. _Midtown_ Manhattan. Tony would call that a failed alien invasion, if Loki’s goal had been to take over the world. 

Tony had a pretty serious gut feeling that it hadn’t been.

All things considered, Tony should have done what he encouraged the others to do and taken the day off. Taken the week off. Taken as much time off as needed before the sight of just an airplane far overhead had his heart racing. He was never going to sleep again, he was convinced of it. Even though his entire body ached and he felt like he was probably going to collapse at any moment. Unfortunately, he couldn’t just yet. He had business to attend to. They all did.

Even though it had only been a couple of hours since Tony had last seen him, Loki seemed to be doing significantly better. Whatever crack in his armor there had been that had allowed his earlier terror through had since been filled, maybe with grout, maybe with concrete. Surrounded by guards and with Thor not far from his side, he stood with his head held high, as if he hadn’t just got his ass handed to him in rather spectacular fashion. There were heavy-looking chains attached to equally thick bands of metal around his wrists and throat, but Tony had the feeling they were no more effective at holding him than the rusted handcuffs had been in the cave. Loki had worn those, as he wore these, as a performance of docility.

What was more convincing of his current weakness was the way his shoulders sagged, just a little, and the bruises on his face that had to be the least of the damage the Hulk had done to him, if the way he was favoring his weight on one leg was any indication. Tony had to look closely, but he saw the awkwardness in his stance. The barely-suppressed weariness.

His eyes cleared a little when they fell on Tony, and sharpened. **“Stark,”** He greeted, smile smooth for the nasty-looking cut on his lip. **“Returned safely from the wormhole?”**

Tony had seen the way Loki had spoken to Fury, had been listening as he approached as he’d taunted Steve. He’d like to think he knew Loki well enough by now to know when he was trying to antagonize. **“Yeah, looks like it.”** It didn’t feel like he was in one piece, and what he’d seen…

He wondered if Loki had seen things like that, working with the Chitauri. If he was afraid of them. If he’d even seen them before agreeing to do what he’d promised he wouldn’t, eyes wild as he woke up from some nightmare and tore his back open again. If he’d survived that, had _laughed_ at it, what could have been done to him to make him agree to carry out this war of his?

And if it was _his_ war, why did he seem so scared?

The wind lifted a bit of Loki’s hair away from his forehead and he closed his eyes a moment, turning his face towards the sun. **“I was in a similar darkness,”** He murmured, sounding almost peaceful despite the content of his words. **“Then in that pit, with you, then in darkness again.”**

It had been something like two years since Tony had left that cave, and Loki couldn’t have stayed there much longer than he had. Had he seen the sun in those two years? Had he been outside at all?

Tony had spent only a moment staring deep into that wormhole, and he already felt like he was going to tremble right out of his skin. No wonder Loki looked like he hadn’t slept, or eaten, or showered in his entire life. **“That doesn’t sound like a vacation.”**

Loki opened his eyes a sliver and smiled again. **“Oh, it wasn’t** **_all_ ** **bad. I did get to hold the Tesseract, if but for a moment. It was...mmm.”** He exhaled slowly, eyelids flickering like he was picturing a favorite childhood memory. **“Exquisite.”**

**“Was it worth it?”**

 Loki’s eyes snapped open fully and he blinked, hard, looking almost innocently surprised. **“What?”**

**“Was it worth it,”** Tony pressed, stepping forward. The guards were watching him, and he saw one of their hands tighten around Loki’s bicep. **“Getting out of the cave, coming back here, doing all this.”** He pointed towards the damaged buildings in the midground, the rubble still around them. **“Just so you could--what, keep us, keep** **_me_** **, from getting that ‘warm light for all mankind to share?’”**

He should, probably, have shouted all that. Should have demanded Loki show some remorse for the lives he’d taken and the catastrophic fallout this was all going to have. People had killed themselves when they thought _War of the Worlds_ was real. This was going to have a much higher body count than just this battle, just this day. But he couldn’t _just_ be angry, not when there were still so many questions to be answered. Questions he _needed_ answers to, because dammit, he wanted to sleep, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to if he was staying up late trying to pick apart Loki’s motives. He’d said _bag of cats_ earlier, but it was more like _bag of cats with their tails tied together, all trying to go in different directions and scratching themselves when they couldn’t get anywhere._

Loki looked faintly put-upon, like this conversation was somehow beneath him. It took Tony a moment to realize that, no, he looked _antsy_ . **“It’s hardly a question of worth, Stark. You’re a businessman. I’m sure I needn’t lay it out for you.”**

**“And this was just a transaction? Thor seems to think the Chitauri were some on kind of loan. Someone let you give the all the orders so you can rule Earth, and you get the Tesseract for them. Is that what you wanted?”** He nearly _was_ shouting now, and the guards were beginning to look a little nervous. Tony forced himself to take it down a notch. Tempted as he was to grab Loki by the shoulders and shake the truth out of him, he didn’t think the highly armed men at his sides would appreciate it, and he’d already been shot at enough times today to last for the rest of his life.

Loki watched him, silent. There was a loud click from where Thor was working and Loki looked skywards, sharply, a flicker of fear making his eyes look impossibly wide. When he looked down again, it was gone, but the cracks that had formed, perhaps as early as the cave, were spreading.

**“** ** _Dammit_** **, Loki,** **_say something.”_ ** Tony’s voice cracked like a whip and Loki jerked, then snarled as one of the guards at his back dug the barrel of his gun harder into the space between Loki’s shoulder blades. He twisted away from it like it hurt more than it should, and again Tony was reminded of the beating he’d taken just a bit ago.

**“Bring him,”** Thor called from behind them, and Tony glanced over his shoulder to see the god holding some sort of glass casing, the Tesseract centered inside. Loki struggled for a moment, his movements becoming more frantic as Thor approached, holding something that looked concerningly like a muzzle. He leapt forward as Loki broke free of one of the guards, fingers flying out to close around Tony’s tie and jerk him close. There were shouts from the rest of the Avengers and Tony could see movement around him, Thor’s own hand wrenching Loki away, but Tony caught his whisper:

**“Convenient, wasn’t it, that Selvig thought to add the failsafe.”**

It was so quiet Tony wasn’t entirely sure he’d spoken at all, but when they broke apart and Thor dragged Loki past him, the faint upward tilt to the edges of his mouth was telling. The guards held his head in place as Thor lifted the muzzle, looking for all the world like he’d rather stomp on it than have it anywhere near his brother, but Loki’s eyes stayed on Tony’s. Tony, for his part, was stuck somewhere between speechless and trying to remember every detail of the last seventy-two hours.

**“Something about your phrasing makes me think it wasn’t,”** He said, staring back and resisting the urge to adjust his tie. It felt like Loki had been trying to strangle him from behind, _Jesus_. If things kept up like this, his adrenals were going to burn themselves out from overuse.

Loki grinned at him, a wild edge to it, and before it vanished behind the muzzle, Loki gave a final shout. Then Thor took hold of one end of the Tesseract’s testing tube, Loki the other, and with a twist of the mechanism they were gone. Their forms caught like flames, turning the same near-blinding white-blue of the Tesseract’s energy. Tony followed the streaks of light into the sky where they narrowed into a single bright point, Loki’s last words still stuck the air around him.

**_“We’ll see each other again, Stark. I’m certain of it.”_ **

Tony was bruised, his tower was a wreck, and all too familiar with sudden and intelligent alien existence. He wanted to shower, and get a massage, and eat. He’d heard of shawarma before, and he’d seen a place on the corner where he’d shot down a Chitauri ship streaking by, and it was a funny word. Tony wanted to try it. There was something to be said about the fact that he _could_ . That _any_ of them could. Loki had made himself predictable. Loki had been clever. Loki had failed, and Tony wondered if that hadn’t been his goal all along. He grinned despite himself, watching as the light faded. **“I’d sincerely like to believe that.”**


End file.
